Retribution

Chapter Ten

The fort standing on top of the crag looked peaceful, almost tranquil as Caradoc looked out at it from the highest point of the ridge a few hundred yards away. He and his men had been led into position by Elud a few hours before just as night was falling, but now a virtual blackness coated the ground, although the small garrisoned fort was still visible against a grey cloudy background. This was the nearest point they could reach without the risk of being discovered, and he now watched as warriors passed by him and made their way to the left of the enormous mound and onto the sandstone cliff face. It was a risk because if any of the men were seen by the guards patrolling the walls, the raid would be over even before it started and they would find themselves retreating to the west. Caradoc could just make out a fluttering flag above a tower but so far had not seen any sentries who he knew must be there watching the low ground.

“Are we ready then?” Ardwen asked gripping the hilt of his sword, his teeth white against the dark night and the mud he had smeared across his pale flesh.

Caradoc looked from him back to the defended position once more. “Well I think if they were going to be alerted, they would have been already, come on let’s go.” He said moving slowly and down the ridgeline following the direction of the men who had gone before them.

Covering the lowland had taken a lot of time as they had moved very slowly so as not to make any noise and they had arrived undisturbed by watching eyes. The majority of the force were gathered at the base of the steep climb, now under the cover of trees and were sat quietly whispering when Caradoc, Ardwen and Brennus arrived.

Caradoc nodded a greeting to those nearest him and walked straight to the sheer cliff face where he checked his sword and looked for a suitable spot to begin his ascent. Looking up he could make out various thin trees and roots which would make for a relative easy climb, or so he hoped.

Elud tapped him on the shoulder, leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “It’s like this all the way to the top. The only time it will be really difficult will be when you reach the walls of the fort, because there is only about a foot or two in-between the edge and the actual building, apart from that you won’t have a problem.”

“Thank you.” Caradoc said heaving himself up off the ground. “Remember if you choose to come with us, your life here is at an end. Even if the Romans don’t suspect you of any involvement, your life will never be the same again.”

Elud tapped his sword handle. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything, I’ll be coming with you after and they can keep their grapes and cherries.” He grinned and moved back out of the way as others grabbed tree roots and pulled their bodies up.

The climb upward although made relatively easy by strong roots and small trees was still quite long and testing. As Caradoc pulled himself up over the edge he was joined by Brennus as he stood there smiling and enjoying the view. A few seconds later Ardwen huffed as his hands sought out purchase but Brennus grabbed them and hauled him clear. His face showed he wasn’t happy at being beaten up the cliff face by the larger man but he couldn’t or didn’t dare say anything to express it further, it would have to wait. There was quite a strong breeze from the open plain below coming from the direction of the mountains to the west, but fortunately it wasn’t strong enough to cause them any danger for the time being. Caradoc standing with his back to the log wall looked out over the trees below and the low ground they had covered, where he could just about make out the last of his men slowly moving across the shadows below. He had to concentrate his eyes to be able to see them but he knew where to look, no trumpets had sounded and no alarms had been raised so he assumed they had made it so far undetected.

He removed his dagger and turned to face the wall, where the Romans had packed the spaces in-between the wood with mud and clay. He placed the point of the blade against one large log just above knee level and pushed against it with his entire body weight, the sharp tip sank in about an inch. He covered the hilt with a small padded piece of cloth and hammered it home with the palm of his hand until he was satisfied it was deep enough. Brennus then did the same with another dagger placing it about a foot higher than Caradoc's but a foot over to the left. He leant against it and sank it as deep as the first knife without the need to bang it home, smiling he turned to Ardwen. Ardwen looked at him eyebrows raised as if to say ‘anything you can do’ and then tried to do the same above Caradoc’s dagger but couldn’t get the blade in far enough, Brennus moved him out of the way and pushed it home. The same thing was occurring all over the wall and the warriors slowly built temporary steps up towards the top of the wood, the noise of the wind covering the sounds of light banging to secure the blades.

Brennus was the first to test the daggered steps as he gingerly stepped onto the first that he, Caradoc, Ardwen, and others had forced into the wood. With the blades horizontal to the small shelf and buried deep into the wood, they took his weight. He hauled himself up and paused as he looked over the wall, without turning he waved a hand upward indicating for others to begin their next short climb. Caradoc went next in his group and slowly made his final ascent up and over the wall and crouched on the far side straining his eyes searching for guards. Torches were burning on the far side where a cover of sorts stood over a gate. It was where the flag flew that he had seen earlier, where he thought he could make out two helmeted figures inside. Either the Romans were over confident or they didn’t believe their safety was in doubt, after all what fools would attempt to gain access to their fort by climbing a sheer cliff face. Ardwen joined the two crouched figures.

“What have we got then boys?” He asked whispering.

Brennus replied in a hushed tone, “Well when we first got here there were six sentries on this wall but Caradoc and I have taken care of them.” He beamed jokingly, “Good of you to join us by the way.”

Ardwen grimaced, “Very funny I’m sure, we’ll see who gets the most blood flowing in a while.” He looked into the fort taking in the barracks and other buildings constructed of wood. “Don’t be surprised if it’s me, if there are eighty of them in here as we think, my blade will have at least ten just you wait and see.”

“If we can get the two guards over there in the tower before they can raise the alarm, the attack is nearly over, well the hard part anyway.” Caradoc said nodding to the two figures. “If we can kill them before the others are alerted our people should be safe.”

“Take it as done.” Brennus said making his way forward crouching.

Ardwen looked at Cardoc, “The cheeky bastard.” He said, “Those two don’t count, looks like they’re asleep anyway.”

The Britons began to take up places on the walls so they could drop into the fort. Caradoc watched as Brennus got closer, he couldn’t believe that he was still undetected but he watched as two swift strikes of a flashing blade quietly took the lives of the two sentries, and then men all around him began to drop to the ground inside the fort. They had discussed what they thought could be every eventuality the day before and warriors now moved silently to cover every doorway of every building.

Caradoc jumped down and gave the signal for the men to take torches from the iron holders that stood around the camp and were attached to walls bent out at angles away from wood. Others he pointed towards and then indicated where they should stand with their bows ready, others knelt in front of them, swords at the ready. The archers would release their arrows and then the men with swords would go about their deadly work. He looked around one final time, his men were everywhere and the Romans he hoped wouldn’t even know what had hit them.

They were standing in a large, almost oval defensive position with numerous structures built uniformly within. A large gate was at the far side, no doubt leading out onto the slope that was also enclosed by walls running down the gradual slope on either side to the lowland below. They had seen other buildings out there but this was the heart of the small fortress where the majority of legionaries would be. The ancillary structures and any occupiers would be dealt with after the first target.

Brennus returned to Caradoc’s side, “They were sleeping and will go to their gods without knowing what carried them there, can you believe it?” He said quietly.

“Sleeping men don’t count.” Ardwen said gripping his sword, Brennus just grinned and raised two fingers.

Caradoc stepped in front of his line of warriors and said quietly, “I want that building over there torched,” He pointed to the structure. “Once it’s ablaze, those inside may start shouting and wake the others, be ready.”

His instruction was conveyed to the men standing by the building, it was a barrack block, long and narrow. Flaming torches were thrown onto the roof, quickly followed by others, the breeze wafted the flames and soon the tell-tale crackle of fire could be heard on the thatched surface. Within moments the roof was burning and dark smoke billowed into the air this way and that, the wind took it high so it didn’t obstruct the attacker’s vision. They waited some moving from foot to foot holding their weapons tight, anticipating the response from those inside, they didn’t have to wait long.

The first sign that the occupiers were aware that something was wrong came in the form of coughing from inside, then the door opened to the barrack block. A man stumbled out clearly struggling for breath and holding his hands over his nose and mouth, he was wearing only a tunic and more came after him, barging into his back. Before they could shout a warning or get any words out, arrows were launched from the waiting Britons, they slammed home into their targets after zipping through the air at speed, hitting the Romans in their chests and stomachs in the main. The occupants’ eyes went wide in confusion as they began to fall, landing on each other as more tried to get out of the burning building as panic set in.

Those still inside were quickly obstructed by the dead and wounded piling up outside the door and couldn’t get out as arrows continued to rain into them. A voice rang out from inside shouting and obviously trying to alert the other occupants of the fort but his cries were quickly snuffed out as smoke took hold of his senses. Whether it was his shouts or the sound of the crackling fire, Caradoc and his men didn’t know but moments later they were aware of movement from the other structures.

“Fire the other buildings, now.” Caradoc pointed to the building where Romans were obviously beginning to stir. The Britons did as they were ordered as more thatched roofs were set on fire, the pattern of attack followed that of the first building and the occupants were cut down before they were barely aware they were under attack. Caradoc’s warriors stood almost impassively launching their missiles into the struggling men as they fought to get away from the smoke filled barracks. The attack quickly turned into a rout as the previously sleeping Romans struggled to get outside, but without armour or weapons and shocked by what was occurring and disorientated, they stood little chance as they were slaughtered to a man. Those still alive but wounded were quickly despatched.

Caradoc waited and watched as his warriors went about their business, he hadn’t even drawn his sword. Ardwen and Brennus were gutting and killing those who had fallen as if it were a race and once in a while looked up to see where the other was. He saw that the smoke was now being carried upward and up into the dark night sky away from the top of the crag, he looked to the gate almost expecting to see reinforcements from the rest of the small garrison but there were none. When he and his war party were satisfied that they had completed the first part of the attack, he ordered that every remaining building was searched. The task was completed quickly and without incident as the remaining structures were empty workshops or granaries.

“Once we’ve secured the rest of the fort, we’ll take what we can and slip back into the hills.” Caradoc said to Ardwen looking west. “First we’ve got to clear the area beyond the gate.” He looked towards the large wooden doors. “Whatever we find out there I want the same tactics used understood?” They nodded. “We’ve lost no-one so far except for one man who got too close to the flames.” He referred to an over eager warrior who tried stabbing through a window and paid a heavy price for his actions.

Brennus and Ardwen acknowledged the instruction as the three men walked towards the barred gates, their warriors behind them. “Before we go through I want you to speak to the men and tell them to be careful, I don’t want our retreat to the west slowed by anyone injured through being careless if we can help it.”

Caradoc reached the gates and peered through the gaps in the large wooden poles, the ground beyond dropped away beyond quite sharply but on the lower ground he could just make out buildings and a few tents. He took hold of one side of the large wooden square cut bar that secured the gate, as Brennus put his arms underneath the opposite side. They heaved the wood upward and it came loose easily. They carried the bar and placed it on the grass at the side of the entrance, as Ardwen cracked open the wood and peered outside.

“I can’t see any movement.” He reported whispering as Caradoc joined him. “There are more buildings down there than we could see from outside.”

“As long as we keep our discipline we shouldn’t have too many problems.” Caradoc said looking down the slope. “This is what we’ll do.” He looked back to Brennus and Ardwen. “I want you to take a third of the men each, Brennus, you to the right, Ardwen to the left, I’ll take the centre. We’ll go down the slope slowly and in a line walking, no running and no shouting understood?”

They both nodded that they understood their instructions. “Once we get to the buildings we’ll deal with them as we find them and then move lower, taking them one at a time unless things change. I don’t know that using the same method will work down there as the structures are too spread out. I want each force to have an equal number of archers to cover those who go to the buildings, now go and brief your men before we move.”

The attacks on the lower ground went according to plan and the Britons took few casualties, none dead, eleven injured but not fatally, the Roman count was far worse and twenty three legionaries were taken prisoner, the rest were killed as they tried to fight against overwhelming odds. With the Beeston fort secure and no sign of enemy reinforcements, Caradoc ordered that the crag was to be stripped of anything they could use, weapons, food, horses, grain and wagons, the remaining buildings were destroyed by fire.

As dawn began to brush away the night, the Britons were beyond the ridgeline they had used as cover to approach the fort and were moving into the safety of the west. Smoke still rose into the sky behind them and although they were tired and exhausted, they were in good spirits after their victory over the fort on the crag at Beeston.

After returning to the garrison at Isca Dumnoniorum, Varro and his men were given a few days to recover after their ordeal in the region to the south. The primus pilus, senior centurion had decreed that all those who had survived the attacks, were to be given a few days off to recoup their energy, eat well and exercise. So it was a surprise that after only two days Centurion Pilo, the aforementioned senior centurion, came to see Varro in his quarters.

“Weren’t sleeping were you lad?” Pilo said walking in unannounced, Varro opened his eyes. He had been in the middle of a dream, more of a nightmare, and was in his mind, back on the walls of Statio Deventiasteno fighting for his life next to Cammius at the small legionary fort. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and quickly swung his legs off the bed, threw his sheets to one side and stood to attention, naked.

“Sir.” He acknowledged.

“At ease lad, at ease, take it easy.” Pilo said placing his vine cane under his arm, his badge of office. Varro sat back down again, a fine dust exploded into the air from his straw filled mattress, rubbing his eyes and covering his modesty, he looked up at Pilo. He was a typical senior centurion, thick set, muscular and had more scars than a Nubian snake wrestler. His grey hair was thinning on top but was cut short, so short that he almost looked bald. He wasn’t a man to mess around with as his reputation confirmed, and was known to be firm but fair.

“Sorry sir, me and the boys were training all day yesterday and then had a few jars of wine last night, I wasn’t drunk though.” He added quickly, “I must have gone out like a light, can’t even remember getting back. Still catching up after the siege I suppose.” He looked up at Pilo who raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not surprised after what you and your lads and of course Cammius’ lot went through down there, I’m not surprised at all Centurion, you deserved a rest.” He replied. Varro noted the words deserved a rest.

“So how would you like something to ease you back into the real world, get the blood flowing a bit now you’re all recovered eh?” Pilo asked.

“The sooner the better,” Varro replied lying, in truth he could have done with more time to relax and recuperate, “what have you got in mind sir?”

Pilo removed his helmet and took a seat next to the bed, “A few of the troops from the third cohort got into an altercation last night, specifically it was between the second and third centuries in one of the bars. Daft bastards decided to beat the living daylights out of each other which in itself wouldn’t have been too bad but,” he paused looking at Varro, “unfortunately one young Legionary called Frontus died of stab wounds. Seems like he was wounded a number of times to the stomach and chest, he was dead as a roast doormouse before the medicus could treat his wounds.” He paused again looking at his helmet plume as he rotated his head ware in his large hands. “Mind you I don’t think it would have made a scrap of difference looking at the holes in him, one was so deep it punctured the skin of his back.”

Varro frowned confused, “Where do I come in sir?”

“The provosts are away, or I should say all those that are worth a shit are anyway, some escort duty or something or other, the legate didn’t give me the details.” Varro felt his heart sink but Pilo went on, “So I thought it would be a nice easy duty for you and your optio to get back into the swing of things, you know, question those who were in the bar, find out who started it and more specifically who used their dagger to kill poor Frontus. What do you think?”

Varro tried to hide his anger, “Certainly sir, when do we start?”

Pilo smiled, “That’s the spirit eh lad? I’ve got the barman from the Boar, that’s the bar where it happened, waiting for you as we speak.” The senior centurion stood smiling, “I’d do it myself but I’ve got enough to be getting on with, I’ll be glad when we’re out in the field again personally. Let me know if you need anything, you know where to find me. Be assured the legate and I are right behind you and whoever was responsible will receive the sternest punishment.” He bent over and patted Varro’s shoulder, “Keep an eye on that wound and all, this shouldn’t be too rigorous anyway, so it’ll give you time to heal properly.” Without another word he left the room. Varro collapsed back onto the bed with his eyes closed, heart sinking and feeling awful, he grimaced as the injury was pulled taught. He had been involved in enquiries within legionaries before and had never enjoyed the experience, the provosts weren’t the most popular of personnel and those standing in for them were regarded with even less respect. No soldiers, especially those on active service, appreciated being questioned and hostility towards the provosts was common place.

“Wonderful.” He said. As he dragged himself off the bed he saw that his wound was starting to seep blood again. He quickly splashed water over his face and swilled his upper body from a water bowl and got dressed.

“You have got to be fucking joking sir, surely to gods, acting fucking provosts? What the fucks that all about then? Doesn’t that fat cunt Pilo know we’ve just spent days fighting for our fucking lives and defending the fucking empire down at that fucking shit hole Deventiasteno?” Optio Grattius was even less impressed than Varro with their new duty. Varro had bumped into him walking towards the baths with a towel draped over his shoulder, wearing just his loin cloth.

“Let’s make sure we don’t use all those fucks up before we get started eh Optio?” Varro said.

“Sorry sir.” Grattius said. “Well I can tell you this for fuck all, I ain't fucking happy and if any of those turd burgling bastards from the Third think they’re going to fuck us about they’ve got another fucking thing coming, mark my fucking words.” Grattius almost roared. “I’ll stick my blade up their fucking holes for ‘em if they start to mess us about.”

“Yes thank you Grattius, I think I’ve fucking got that. Now go and get into uniform, we’ve got the barman to see at the Boar.” Varro said.

Grattius’ face lit up, “The Boar eh, maybe things won’t be too bad after all.”

A short time later, Varro knocked on the thick wooden door that was the entrance to the drinking den known as the Boar. A picture of a rampaging wild pig adorned the wall outside, there was no reply. Varro moved closer and rattled the door with his fist.

“Centurion Varro and Optio Grattius, open the door.” He shouted. They heard movement inside.

“He’s probably just pulling his cock out of the wench that works in ‘ere I should imagine sir and we’ve disturbed ‘em, mid poke.” Grattius said grinning.

“Let me do the talking Optio, see where the land lies eh.” Varro said.

“In the fucking mortuary ain’t it sir? Dead as gutted pork?” Grattius looked at his commander who wasn’t grinning. “Sorry sir.”

Just then they heard the sound of a latch turning and the door creaked open, a fat red blemished face peered out at them. “Don’t open until the evening, you’ll have to come back then.” The door closed again.

Varro hit the wooden frame making the entire door shake. “Open the door now. We’re here to investigate the murder last night.” He turned to Grattius his frustration rising.

“Want me to throw a few fucks in now then sir? It may help open this bastard’s ears up a bit?” Grattius said.

“I’ll let you know when Grattius.” Varro replied his anger rising now as well as his frustration. The door opened again and the man could be seen in all his glory, he was about five foot tall, round and naked from the waist up, a putrid stench wafted out at the two soldiers. Varro saw that he had a wart the size of a man’s thumb in the middle of his chin, it was dark brown and far too big.

“Well, why didn’t you say that the first time then?” He said, “Come in then, although I don’t know what I can tell you if I’m honest.” He ushered them inside hobbling and it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. The place stunk of stale ale and wine, a female looked up from cleaning a table with a grubby cloth as they entered and blushed. She was tall and attractive and quickly finished what she was doing, adjusted the upper part of her dress making sure her breasts were visible and walked to the back of the bar and left via another door.

“What did I tell you?” Grattius whispered as they were led to the serving area that consisted of a rough plank lying on top of barrels. “I’ll wager he was giving her a good seeing too.” Varro didn’t reply but gave his optio a look of disgust.

“Servius Verius Pubess at your service sirs,” the barman said taking his place behind the plank bar, “although like I said, I don’t think I can tell you much, everything seemed to happen so fast.” He looked from one soldier to the other. “Well if you lot weren’t trained so well maybe I could have done something, but a man in my condition ain’t fit enough to grapple with fit young fighters.” He jumped up onto a large stool. “So what can I tell you?” He leant forward on to the plank. “Want a drink before we start?” He asked.

“Yes.” Grattius replied.

“No.” Varro countered. “We want clear heads for this but thank you.” He glared at Grattius who looked away glancing around the area. Turning back to the man with the wart, Varro said. “Just tell me what happened last night, what time you opened up, who came in, who were they with, did you recognise anyone and what was it that started the trouble?” He took out a wax tablet and a stylus to take down any pertinent details.

Pubess thought for a second scratching at his wart, “Usual time, legionaries from the third cohort, second and third centuries.” He looked up at the ceiling, “don’t know their names except for an optio like you.” He said looking at Grattius.

“I wasn’t here last night.” He said.

“No it wasn’t you – like you, same uniform I mean, an optio. He was sat over there at that table.” He pointed and then climbed off the stool and came round to the front of the plank. “Here.” He touched a table. “He was sat here and the lad that was injured,” he paused, “sorry killed, was sat here.” He pointed to a table nearby.

“The optio was sat at that table when Legionary Frontus was stabbed?” Varro asked. Pubess and his wart resumed their perch behind the plank.

“Yes I’m sure.” He looked back into the room. “Certain actually because this optio dragged one of his lads out of the melee, that was when I first saw the blood. All cleared up now of course, I like to keep a clean bar you know.”

He poured himself a jar of wine from an amphora and took a drink.

“Blood?” Varro asked. “Was this when the lad was stabbed or could it have come from someone else?”

Pubess thought for a moment, “Couldn’t tell you but if you find that optio, he’ll tell you I’m sure. He dragged his lad out who was kicking and screaming, covered in blood he was, all down his white tunic, that’s how I saw it so easily even in this place. The lights terrible, I’ve asked Centurion Pilo if he can do something about it but he says it’s my responsibility as I’m the proprietor or something like.” He took another drink. “Anyway, then all hades kicked off and the others were knocking lumps out of each other, even Attia got out of the way and came behind here.” He indicated behind the plank.

“Attia. Who’s that?” Grattius asked eager to get involved. Varro gave him a look.

“She’s me wife, you saw her when you came in.” He turned and shouted and began scratching at his groin. “Attia come in here will you?”

Varro and Grattius exchanged looks and the optio held out his hand indicating the difference in height between Pubess and his wife, shaking his head.

“Yes Servius what can I do for you and these fine young men?” She appeared smiling and stood by her husband’s side, chest thrust forward.

“Centurion Varro,” Varro said introducing them, “and Optio Grattius.” He waved a hand at Grattius. “We’re here looking into the circumstances of the incident last night when one of our legionaries was stabbed. Is there anything you can tell us?”

She blushed again, “I think you would be better off talking to Optio Anicius.”

“And he’s the optio that dragged the lad out is he?” Grattius asked, Varro looked at him but he was focused on Attia, primarily her chest. Varro made some notes.

“Yes but don’t ask me what the other one’s name is, I couldn’t tell you, young lads hold no interest for me.” She said reddening again. Varro looked at Pubess.

“We offer a variety of services sirs.” He said looking at his wife with a cheery grin, Varro didn’t ask.

“Well thank you for your time this morning.” Varro said, “If we need anything else, we’ll be back to speak with you.” They stood up.

“We’ll look forward to it.” Attia said smiling.

“Come on Optio.” Varro said, the two men headed towards the door.

“Fuck me did you hear that?” Grattius asked, “The dwarf’s wife is up for a shag. I didn’t know the Boar provided those sorts of services did you?”

“I haven’t been in there before and if I can help it I won’t be going in there again. These people are all the same Grattius, they’d rut a dead pig if they could.” Varro said placing his helmet on his head.

“Well I ain’t too fussy sir, I’ll be back here later.” He put his own helmet on, “Mind you, half the legion has probably been through it never mind Pube or whatever his name is. Did you see the size of that fucking wart? What’s she doing with that short arsed bastard anyway? Can you imagine him giving her one?” Grattius laughed as the two men walked into the fresh air outside. “I told you that was what he was up to when we first got here.”

Varro ignored him and didn’t reply but led Grattius towards the direction of the cohort’s barracks. Entering the blocks, Grattius removed his helmet. “Put it back on,” Varro ordered, “we’re not here making a social call.” Grattius did as he was instructed. They walked into a large room filled with bunk beds along each side of the wall. Legionaries were sat around polishing their equipment. Varro approached one soldier.

“Centurion Varro,” he announced, “I’m looking for Optio Anicius.” There was no reply.

“On your fucking feet now legionary.” Varro shouted, even Grattius was startled and jumped, everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing. The soldier in question stood up sharply and came to attention dropping his armour. He stared straight ahead not looking at Varro.

The centurion leaned into his face. “What’s your name soldier?”

“Legionary Abudius sir.” The man replied, Varro saw that he had bruising under his right eye.

“Where’s your Optio?” Varro asked.

“Pilum training sir.” He replied.

“That wasn’t too difficult was it?” Varro said.

“Were any of you cunnies in the Boar last night when a soldier was stabbed to death? Grattius asked. Blank faces stared back at him. “I’ll take that as a no shall I?” He walked into the centre of the room. “Mark my words if we have to come back here after finding out that any of you were present, the Centurion here won’t be happy and neither will I.” Various faces reddened and averted their eyes from the optio’s glare. The two officers turned and walked towards the exit, Varro could feel eyes on his back.

“Ignorant fuckers, I’ll be having words with Anicius about his men’s attitude.” Grattius said as they left the building.

“Let’s just concentrate on the task in hand for now shall we eh?” Varro said. “Let’s go and have a look at this dead trooper before we speak with Anicius.”

In the cool of the mortuary, laid out on a marble slab, was a body covered in a shroud, the smell was like a butchers shop, only worse. The Greek looking attendant removed the sheet. “He was dead when he arrived, last night sir,” he said, “all we could do was clean him up a bit.” The man was tall and thin with a large hooked nose; he stood to one side holding the sheet that was marked with blood. On the slab was the body of a young man, his stomach and chest had multiple dark wounds where blood had coagulated, Varro counted, nine wounds in all.

“He was hit hard,” the attendant said reaching out and taking hold of the corpse’s shoulder and hip. He rolled the body onto its side, it stayed firm with rigour as if frozen. Varro and Grattius could see that one wound had perforated the skin of the dead man’s back near the spine.

“We’ve got his records here if you want to see them sir?” The thin man asked placing the body down and picking up some rolled up scrolls from a bench. He shuffled the paper, “Legionary Frontus, aged twenty years, joined the legion,” he squinted at the details, “six months ago from recruit training in Germania.”

“Was anything brought in with him?” Varro asked.

“Just his clothes,” he turned and went to a bench and picked up a blood stained tunic and a pair of sandals. “That’s all he had with him, oh and his belt and loin cloth, they are covered in blood as well, you can see them if you like but I don’t think they will tell you anything.” He held the tunic up but it didn’t fall freely as dark blood stains covered the majority of the material sticking it together, he pulled the base and crisp dried blood cracked as it was pulled free. Only the shoulder areas were clear of staining. “If you ask me he didn’t stand a chance, such a waste of a young life.”

“Thank you for your time,” Varro said. “Please keep these items available, we may need them later.” The attendant nodded as the two men left.

“Jupiter’s bollocks it stinks in there.” Grattius said as they got out into the fresh air.

“Not pleasant is it?” Varro said. “Right, it sounds as if Optio Anicius has a few questions to answer, let’s go and find him.” He led the way to the area set aside for pilum training, where dozens of men were either throwing their javelins at large straw targets or waiting to get onto the range. An optio was directing the practice.

“Optio Anicius?” Varro asked.

The large man turned, he was equal in height to Grattius and just as muscular, he frowned as Varro and Grattius stood staring at him.

“Sir?” He looked directly into the eyes of Varro; bright blue determined eyes stared defiantly back at the centurion.

“I need to speak to you now Optio, your training here is finished for the day, have your senior man either take over or escort the rest of them to the barracks.”

Anicius hesitated for a moment. “Problem Optio?” Varro asked.

“No sir, I’ll sort the boys out and be right with you.” He said.

“Might have to be a bit hard on this fucker sir,” Grattius said, “looked like he was gonna punch you then.”

“I’m sure you would have saved me.” Varro replied.

“Fucking right sir, I’d have had him on the floor in no time, no worries there.” The optio replied. Varro smiled. With the legionaries marching back to their barracks, Anicius returned to the edge of the training area. “All done sir, what’s all this about then?” He asked.

“We’ll discuss that in the guardroom Optio Anicius.” Varro said, “Follow me.” He turned and Anicius fell in line between the centurion and Grattius.

Inside the relative cool of the provost’s office in the guardroom, Varro removed his helmet and indicated for Anicius to take a seat. The centurion sat opposite him with Grattius standing behind, despite another seat being available. Varro got straight to the point.

“You were in the Boar last night when an incident occurred and were seen dragging one of your men out of the chaos, why?” Varro asked leaning forward and placing his arms on the table. The optio looked as if he had been slapped in the face.

“I didn’t want my lads caught up in a load of trouble, so decided to get out of there. You know what they’re like once they get too much wine inside them.”

Varro stared straight into Ancius’ blue eyes. “So neither you nor the Legionary you dragged outside were involved in the trouble?”

Anicius stared back, “No like I said, I just wanted to get out of there. Once trouble kicks off in places like that we’re better off out of it.”

“What’s the name of the man you took away?” Grattius asked cutting in, Varro looked down at the table.

“Abudius,” he replied, “his name is Abudius, good lad one of the best I’ve got, reliable if you know what I mean.”

“That’s the man we spoke to in the barracks,” Varro said turning to look at Grattius for confirmation.

“Yes,” Grattius said, “insolent little shit. If he’s your best I’d hate to have to rely on your others. He was lucky not to get knocked onto his arse, insubordinate little bastard.” Anicius stared up at his fellow optio. “Got something to add?” Grattius said in a challenging manner.

“My lads don’t appreciate outside interference Optio, you should know that.” He looked at Grattius with disdain. “Then again, you can’t really call yourself a soldier can you, being an investigator,” he looked at Varro, “no disrespect to you sir obviously.”

“We’re not investigators Optio Anicius, far from it we’re regulars just like you. We were just unfortunate to get this duty on behalf of the Primus Pilus.” He said, surprising the optio with the mention of the senior centurion’s name. He continued, “The civilians that work in the bar have said that your man Abudius was heavily involved in the fight with the dead legionary and that was why you pulled him away and got out of there.”

“Who said that then, that fat fucker with the wart on his face or his whore of a wife?”

“Regulars in there then are you?” Varro asked.

“Not much else to do is there after training all day, it’s either go for a few drinks or sit playing with your cock at night. I know which I prefer.” He glared at Grattius.

“I get someone else to play with my tackle son, not one of my lads if you know what I mean.” Grattius said an evil grin on his face.

Anicius stood quickly, knocking the chair over behind him. “Say that again and I’ll rip your tackle off.”

An almighty crack stopped the two optio’s in their tracks as Varro brought his vine cane down on the table. “YOU,” he shouted pointing at Anicius, “sit fucking down and YOU,” he turned to Grattius, “go and get us some water.”

Grattius frowned, coming to attention, “Yes sir.” He gave Anicius a look of anger before storming out of the office.

“Now Optio Anicius let me tell you how this is going to work. I’m going to ask you some questions and you will answer, truthfully. If you do not and I find out later that you have lied to me, I have the authority of the senior centurion to take any action I feel necessary to get to the bottom of this.” He let his words sink in before leaning forward. “Now, there’s a dead legionary in the morgue, one of your men is responsible. I couldn’t give a shit whether it’s your best man or your worst, or if it is the boy that takes it up the arse for you, but what I do care about is getting his name and I want that name before Optio Grattius returns, am I clear?”

Anicius dropped his eyes from the centurion sat in front of him. “Abudius.” He said. “It was Abudius that stabbed him.” He looked up.

“Why?” Varro asked.

“Something about that whore Attia, I don’t really know, wasn’t interested. I saw the stupid bastard draw his blade and start stabbing.” He paused, sitting back in his chair. “I think they were arguing about her, I don’t know if they were both shagging her or what, I just saw what happened and got him out of there as quickly as I could. You’d have done the same if it had been one of your lads.”

“Why didn’t you arrest him?” Varro asked.

“Couldn’t sir he’s one of my lads, you know how it is.”

“Right thank you Optio Anicius, you will accompany me and Optio Grattius to your barracks where Abudius will be arrested and then brought here.” He stood up. “I expect your full co-operation, you are in enough shit already, and I don’t fancy your chances once Centurion Pilo hears what’s gone on. Do you understand?”

“Totally sir.” He replied. As Grattius returned to the room carrying a jar and three cups, Varro said. “Leave them there Optio.” pointing to the table, “we’re going to arrest Legionary Abudius.